


Camaraderie and then a Touch of Love

by EdilMayHampsen



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Author is black, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian polycule because fuck yeah, blatant discussion of political issues and racism, i read a nd martin fic that made me feel so valid so i made this, it's solidarity hours boys, its a vent piece but all fluff, main ship in this one is Georgie barker & sash, no actual political issues or racism, two ladies commit drunken microaggressions at each other until they come to an understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26536561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdilMayHampsen/pseuds/EdilMayHampsen
Summary: And then. Then Georgie spots an afro moving out of the stacks. The woman is incredibly tall, hair curling down past her shoulders. She clutches a couple of folders to her chest. Georgie stops in her tracks, staring.It takes a moment, but eventually the woman looks up, eyes widening slightly when she spots Georgie.She Nods.Georgie Nods.A Character study of Sasha James and Georgie Barker, both being black women in this fic and bonding over the fact.
Relationships: Anabelle Cane/Sasha James, Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Georgie Barker/Sasha James
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	Camaraderie and then a Touch of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Drawn to that Sort of Library Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515440) by [god_commissioned_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/god_commissioned_me/pseuds/god_commissioned_me). 



> I read "Drawn to that sort of library Magic" After fixating on a different fic for a week and being really upset with myself. That fic was so incredibly validating, you wouldn't believe, and I highly recommend you read it, even if it means leaving this fic and coming back, or going there right after. 
> 
> So, when I started to get frustrated about how even black characters in TMA are often drawn as light-skinned and straight-haired, how people write and draw black Jon a ton but never talk about how that could affect him, and ESPECIALLY black ND Jon, which is one of my favorite headcanons but also an incredibly dangerous kind of person to be, I vented with this. I want to keep telling stories like this in an alterate TMA universe, and this fic is a part of that would-be series. If you are a writer or beta who feels underrepresented in this fandom, read the end-notes, cause I can't do it alone.

Georgie is feeling herself today. The kind of cute that makes you look in the mirror and see someone who matches your mental-image instead of some pretty stranger. She doesn’t fiddle with her collar or tug down her pencil skirt (which always ride up on women as fat as Georgie is, this time her thigh-situation stays well within her comfort zone), and she doesn’t pass her hand over her afro looking for flyaway coils. She lets herself be. 

It’s been a while since she’s just let herself be.

The institute gives her the creeps. Historical buildings themselves have some deep-set appeal, but The Magnus Institute is just empty. None of the colorful posters advertising public events, no chalk on the concrete outside, no calendar online, yes she checked-It’d be awesome for What The Ghost if she could get access- It’s just old Graying marble with a splash of red brick. It feels like that kind of place she isn’t welcome.

Georgie walks in anyways. If she didn’t go places people didn’t want her, she’d spend her whole life standing still. Scratch that, she’d be dead. Not even buried, just to blinking out of existence. Pop!

She laughs at the thought as she pulls the door open.

“Welcome to The Magnus Institute!” 

A cheery receptionist, cherry red lipstick. 

Georgie takes a moment to read her. An open stance, a smile with crinkled eyes, and name-tag that says ‘Rosie’. She seems genuine, so Georgie smiles back.

“A friend of mine just got a promotion? Jonathan Sims, uh, spooky librarian or whatever? My name’s Georgie Barker. He should’ve told you I'm coming.”

“Oh! Yes yes, let me…” Rosie flips through an appointment book, and shoots a thoughtful glare to the landline on her desk. “Eh. He’s downstairs. If you see a door you really want to go through, trust me, you don’t. Please don’t give me a reason to make you sign a waver?” 

“Is it a spooky door?”

“Oh, multitudes.” 

“Ooh, I guess I’m taking the podcast hat off today, wouldn’t want to be spook-et-ed away.” 

Rosie squints, “Ah. Georgie Barker? What The Ghost Georgie Barker?”

“In the flesh.” Georgie says, tipping an imaginary hat. She turns to leave before she gets the ‘I thought you were white’ speech. Because people seem to have no sense of faux pas.

She sighs as she makes her way to the industrial stairwell leading down. She should give people the benefit of the doubt more, she knows. But it’s so much easier to cocoon herself in the little, predictive motions, leaving before something has a chance to go south. Back when Georgie was in college, before the incident, it was easy to think one day she would stop being so afraid, and all her troubles would leave her.

Now, Georgie isn’t scared at all, but the facts support caution. Caution, however, doesn’t help her be happy. Damn it. 

She puts on a smile, and not a fake one, as she enters the archives. The place is all gray-tile ceiling and beige manila folders. It smells of dust, soft floral fragrance, and the lingering sweat of someone staying up too long and working too hard. Like Jon in a room too big fit his personality. 

There’s a large man chewing on his thumb in the bullpen, but he looks focused and his earbuds are in, so Georgie doesn’t bother him. Instead, she makes a beeline for the door with the plaque “Head Archivist” sitting neatly at eye level.

She doesn’t knock.

“Hello-oh!”

“I wouldn't Call it gore, but there was blo- Ah." Jon clears his throat and puts down the piece of paper he was reading, clicking a tape recorder off. "Georgie.”

“Ah, Jon.” She mocks, deadpan, “Come on. Don’t tell me you forgot. We’ve been planning this for a week. Celebrate!”

“Yes, yes I know.”

Georgie peeks over her shoulder, the man in the bullpen has removed an earbud and is staring down at the paper on his desk, not reading shit. She rolls her eyes and kicks the door closed, “You’re the big man now! A boss man.” She punches the air dramatically, “On the up-and-up? Jon, you’re making it. We could co-author a cheesy self-help book. ‘Succeeding while black.’ Eh? Eh? Thoughts?” 

Jon presses his forehead to his wrist, “I’m hardly succeeding.”

“I doubt that.”

“The past archivist left the place a mess-”

“Jon!” Georgie says, she strides over and grips him by both shoulders, ginning wildly, “When is that new, really. They were white, I’m assuming.”

“She was.”

“Of course. When is it new that we’ve had to come in and make our place among a white person’s mess, not to be crude, but think about it.” She turns and sits on Jon’s desk. It has open space now, but she knows how Jon works, it won’t be that way for long. “Remember, you and me? In college. Young. In love.”

She can hear the smile in Jon’s voice, even though she isn’t facing him, “I remember, thought we’d waste our lives working for ‘the man’.”

“Wanted to spend our youth well. But look at us!” Georgie says. She hops off the desk again, and grabs Jon by the wrists, guiding him out of his seat and holding his hands wide. “Really, really look at us. Two sexy bitches, I run my own podcast, you run a department.”

Jon chuckles, nervously, “I’m still working for-”

“Does it matter?” Georgie says, sincerely. She gives Jon a look, and his expression is conflicted, confused. “I know you don’t remember much about your mother, so-so your grandmother. How proud would she be? To see you like this?”

Jon tenses for a moment, and then his professional exterior melts off him, and he gives Georgie a barely-there smile. Breathing air thick with nostalgia, his eyes sparkle with the warning of tears.

“Oh, come here you big softie.” Georgie says, she pulls Jon into a hug, and he comes willingly. They sway there. 

“Stick it to the man!” Georgie says, hugging him closer. Jon laughs.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Yes, well I’ll be up in just a moment, if you wouldn’t mind?” he gestures to the door.

“Ooh, big man kicking me out of his big man office? You better not get too used to this, Sims!” 

That earns her a smile with just a flash of teeth, and then Georgie is back out the door. 

Maybe she’ll wait in the lobby, talk to Rosie again. She was a very pretty lady, deserves another chance regardless. Her earlier judgement lasted all of two seconds. Georgie takes another deep breath of the archives, the man looks away quickly when she meets his staring eyes, a blush flooding his face. That makes Georgie raise an eyebrow, but she doesn’t say anything, turning to the stairs to go talk to the nice receptionist she hopes is a fan.

And then. Then Georgie spots an afro moving out of the stacks. The woman is incredibly tall, hair curling down past her shoulders. She clutches a couple of folders to her chest. Georgie stops in her tracks, staring. 

It takes a moment, but eventually the woman looks up, eyes widening slightly when she spots Georgie.

She Nods.

Georgie Nods.

A beat.

The woman waves her towards the bullpen, and Georgie follows.

“Hey!”

“Hello!” The lady says, a little breathless, “I’m Sasha, are you here to give a statement? Let me just-” She pulls a chair from the third empty desk in the bullpen over and Georgie lowers herself into it.

“Oh, no, I’m a friend of Jon’s. Just here to grab lunch. You?”

“I’m Sasha,” She says, and then laughs at herself, “I said- Already- Ha.”

“Is it nice?” Georgie asks.

“What?”

“Working for Jon. For a black dude?”

“Oh!” She laughs, “I mean, uhm.”

Wait.

“Oh my god. You don’t have to answer that, I’m so sorry.” Georgie laughs nervously, “ I won’t tell if you hate him, but–I just saw you and got excited, I suppose.”

“Same here!” 

“Well-”

“Are you ready to go?” Jon says, pulling on his jacket. It’s the middle of summer, but Jon and his jackets. It’s a thing.

Georgie gives Jon a 'Thank you lord, I was embarrassing myself so badly' look. Jon wrinkles his nose in response.

“Yup. It was nice to meet you, Sasha!”

“Likewise!” Sasha waves.

Georgie holds the door for Jon, and they walk up the stairs in companionable silence. Reveling in the new feeling of everything. Jon holds the door at the top for her. 

“So, ah. Getting any interesting guests on your podcast soon?” Jon says, waving to Rosie on her way out, Georgie follows suit, and Rosie looks a little nervous to respond.

“Mhm! Melanie King. Not that you’d be interested.”

“Hey, I’m trying to catch up. I’m just busy.”

“New promotion, new flat, leaving us little guys behind?”

Jon gives her a look, “How are we gonna celebrate this if you won’t let me live it down?”

“It’s a delicate balance, an art, a dance, of sorts a-”

Jon sighs, exaggerated and fond, “Where are we going?”

“You asked a lady to lunch and you didn’t-”

“Cause I knew you’d pick something anyways.”

“Oh, Mr.Sims, The one thing that can please a lady more than chivalry is knowing her well.” Geogie says, a hand on her heart. 

Jon snorts.

“So where?”

“A surprise!” 

Jon goes to sigh again, but realizes he already did that. Georgie laughs, and grabs his hand. The sandwich shop they frequented in college isn’t far from here.

\---

Georgie is back in the archives. Last month, they made the excuse of another thousand listeners on What The Ghost, next month, they’ll hopefully be celebrating Georgie’s small creator award, this month, however, she and Jon don’t have a reason besides enjoying each other's company. Despite the years that have passed, the sparks is still there, though Georgie recognises it as platonic now. There’s nothing like dying of laughter over a plate of food, not having to worry if you’re eating your light bill, with someone who gets it, someone who’s been there with her the whole way.

Jon looks more tired every time Georgie comes down, his eye brows knitting closer every time he frowns. Georgie pretends not to notice. She isn’t sure what to do, or how to help, but he blossoms when they go out for lunch, so Georgie keeps doing it. Addicted to the happy feeling.

And as a bonus, she keeps seeing Sasha.

Georgie walks through the lobby with the ease of someone who belongs there, and at this point, she does. She gives Rosie a wink. Where last time the receptionist has blushed and turned away to fiddle with nothing, she now keeps eye contact and gives Georgie a small smile.

Georgie needs to ask Jon institute policy for giving out one’s number.

Still, when she makes her way down the stairs, all three assistants are in the bullpen.

“Hey!” Tim greets, “Awesome last episode! Congrats on the followers.”

“Thank you!”

“Hello, Georgie.” The big one, Martin, says. He doesn’t turn away from his work.

“Hm.”

“Oh hey! How are you doing?” says Sasha. She is, admittedly, Georgie’s favorite. 

“Good! Professionally good and also good in general. How’s your girlfriend?”

Sasha sputters a bit, “I don’t- I- I mean Anabelle is fine, we aren’t dating though.”

“Gimme a yet.”

“Georgie.” 

“Come on.” She says, bouncing her eyebrows.

“Fine.” Sasha says, “Nothing yet. Happy?”

“Extremely.”

“Well, Jon’s lunch started five minutes ago it you want to-”

“Actually,” Georgie says, leaning on Sasha’s desk, but not with the sprawl she would make Jon endure. She isn't looming either, “I was wondering if you’d want to grab lunch sometime? Just, you know-”

“Sure!” Sasha says, her face lighting up, “Sure! I mean, yeah!”

Georgie grins, “Well could I have, ah-”

“I’m not allowed to give you my number right now.” Sasha says, apologetically.

Ah. 

“But Jon has it for work reasons, I can ask him to pass it on?”

Georgie grins, “If you would? Or I can have him text you mine. Do you like hung-ah!”

Georgie jumps violently at the hand on her shoulder.

“Christ, Jon!”

“I was… Gonna make a joke but...I guess that’s a bust. You okay?”

Georgie takes a breath, “Yeah, I just-” She looks towards Sasha, who’s already politely removed herself from the conversation. “Yeah, fine. Lets go.”

Jon waits until they’re in the stairwell to speak, “Are you trying to make a polycule out of every woman in the building?” 

“Excuse me?”

“I-” Jon says, “The joke that I was gonna make. Ah. Didn’t want Sasha to hear it for...obvious reasons.”

After a beat, Georgie laughs, “Well maybe I am.”

“Hmph. HR would have a fit. Maybe they’d finally leave me alone if they're busy drafting new relationship paperwork.”

“Why are you getting into so much trouble with HR?”

“So many statement givers. And Mar-”

“Yoo hoo!” Rosie calls, “Something here for you, Jon.”

Georgie waits politely while Jon signs out a sleeve of paper, and peaks inside. He sighs, already walking again, and passes it to Georgie. 

“What’s this for?”

“Just open it.”

She does, there's only one sheet in the sleeve. Ten digits and a little heart penned on the top of otherwise blank printer paper. 

“Oh, hell yeah.” Georgie says.

\---

The bar is one of those dingy places that sits under a laundromat and needs a password to enter, Sasha shows Georgie the ropes. It’s cool cool, the antifa flag behind the bar proving the fact. Sasha and Georgie get a booth in the corner, sitting with their cocktails, both fruity, because who has time to not enjoy your drink?

“Is this a date?” Sasha asks, and takes a long sip. 

Georgie can’t stop her eyebrows from shooting up, “I mean, I’m good either way, it’d prefer if I knew, though. I thought you and Anabelle were a thing?”

Sasha smiles at the mention of her girlfriend, “We’re not monogamous, if you’re curious. Not in the mood for romance tonight, though. Kinda beat.”

“You can say that again.” Georgie says, “God. I feel like I haven’t been out of the studio in so long.”

“And there's a reason we don’t let you in the archives anymore. Got this-”

“The worms?”

“Right, yeah! Jon said?”

Georgie nods. “How’s Jon been, by the way? I’ve seen him but…”

“I’d rather not get into the couple stuff if you-”

Georgie laughs so suddenly she has to grab a napkin to blow a bit of strawberry out of her nose. 

“Christ!’ She says, “Christ, no, Jon’s my ex. He’s a nice guy but- No. No we tried that, thank you. I wouldn’t ask if that were the case, I’m just...worried about him.”

“Oh.” Sasha says, she takes another, long sip.

“What does that mean?”

“You know Martin?” Sasha says, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Mm, unfortunately.”

“He won’t admit it-- goes on about professionalism, I wonder why-- He has a massive crush on Jon. He gets… a certain way about jealousy.”

“Was that it? I-” Georgie laughs in disbelief, “Man I thought he was just racist?”

Sasha covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs, “Oh my god, oh no.” She giggles, “I mean, I hope not. I imagine that’d cause some relationship issues between him and-” A snort.

“Do you reckon?” Georgie asks, watching closely how Sasha’s face moves when she laughs. Sasha closes her eyes, wrinkles her nose. Tiny black dots that might be scars and might be freckles disappear and reappear in the light.

They fall into a comfortable silence. Sasha asks if she likes the bar, Georgie says yes. Sasha explains that she met the owner through Anabelle, her brother or cousin or something. A cool guy. They order another round.

“Is it hard?” Sasha asks, wistfully.

“What do you mean?”

“Your life. Running your own podcast. Working for yourself. I meant to leave the institute so long ago, but budget issues and-” She waves her hands in the air, and Georgie nods.

“I won’t lie to you. Yeah. I was really scared in the beginning. Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to eat, you know? But there were no other jobs open for me and I needed something to do with my day besides linkdin and depression ice cream-- Is that too much?”

“No, not at all. Please go on.”

“I didn’t even mean to start a podcast, you know?” She chuckles to herself, “Jon got the job at the spooky institute and I started talking to him about all the spooky stuff I was looking up in my free time.

“He wouldn’t stop bugging me about starting a blog, and I said blogs are so old-school, if anything I’d do a podcast. And then I did? And I met so many people, most of my mates now, and Melanie.”

“Ooh, I know that look. Tell me about Melanie.” 

“Only if you tell me about Anabelle.” 

Sasha lights up, “You got a deal.” 

They go on like that. Anabelle, a stout woman with ‘squinty eyes’ that makes Sasha sigh and smile secretively to herself a total of 17 times in the span she takes to talk about her. Georgie is no different, she goes on about Melanie, her sharp personality and how she refuses to let anyone know her natural hair color, even Georgie. Then about Melanie’s knife collection and how it’s reassuring to sleep over at her house and feel safe, because, you know.

Sasha’s mouth forms a flat line at this, “Boy, do I.” 

Georgie, tipsy as hell and watching the clock for when Anabelle is supposed to pick them up, sprawls out over the table, “Fuck the police.” 

Sasha snorts, “Fucking hell. Remember what you asked me? It was ages ago now, if I like working for Jon? Fuck yeah, I love working for Jon, oh my god. Well, Let’s be real, I probably should have gotten his job.”

“Cheers,” Georgie says.

“But then I would have to deal with Elias,” She spits the name, “And have to worry about taking shit from the other department heads. And I wouldn’t want to look for a new job so fast? I'd be anchored to the institute. I’m kind of relieved, even though it’s unfair. Is that bad?”

“No! If you just so happen to benefit from bullshit...fucking, uhhh, The B word.”

“Bitch.”

“Nah I’d ever forget bitch.”

“Bias.”

Georgie snaps her fingers, “She’s your lass. If you benefit from the bias against you then it cancels or some shit. BODMAS.”

“The fuck is BODMAS?” 

“The order of operations?”

“PEMDAS?”

“Oh god, you’re American.”

“Don’t insult me like that. I’m,” Sasha gestures vaguely again, “Lots of things. Afro-Latine? We bounced around.”

“Ooh, spicy black.” Georgie says without thinking, “Fuck, I didn’t mean that. I was trying to be funny.”

“‘S fine! I getchu.” Sasha says, she reclines in the booth and looks to the clock, “We got thirty minutes, are we still giving you a ride?”

“Yis please, Mhm.” 

This round, for a damn good reason, is two glasses of water. It's cold against Georgie's teeth, but that's probably for the best.

Georgie watches as Sasha takes small sips, thinking, and then lets the glass clal to the table with a soft thud. "I'm trans." Sasha says.

"Woah what-"

"I'm trans, like when-"

"Yeah," Georgie says, blinking the daze out of her head, "I swear I'm usually better at this, all the, the–mmmm– Y'know, this."

Sasha offers a small smile.

"You just caught me off guard, is all. Do you wanna, like, talk about it? Wait, wait." Georgie makes a swapping motion with her hands, "So, wait. I can do this, you'll just have to give me a second. Are we talking He/Him? Do your pronouns even connect to your gender? I know some people don't do that."

"No, I'm a girl, she/her."

"Oh Shit?"

"Darling," Sasha says, putting her hand over Georgie's, "For your own sake, please stop talking."

Georgie nods dumbly, half because Sasha is right and half because woah is she feeling gay right now. Sasha's hand is warm. Really warm. She could get used to this.

Sasha takes a deep breath,"I thought you'd like to know. I just– It's been really nice to know you're around. That there's someone like me in my circle. And that 'like me' mindset gets culty and dangerous fast, but...but still."

She continues, "I didn't wanna get attached to you and then find out were were some kinda–”

"Bigot?"

"Fucker."

Georgie smiles at that. 

"With you I can, like, talk about it. Not worry if I'm offending someone by slipping up or exaggerating and just feel shit." another breath, "Feel all the shit and no guilt about that, cause it ain't easy."

"Tell me about it."

Sasha gives her a look, "I know for a fact you are cis-as-hell."

Georgie makes a gesture that means 'so-so', "Yes no and maybe, I've been too busy to think about it. That makes us even on the faux pas, though. Faux pai? Pauses? Faux pitudes?"

"Honestly? I don't give a single fuck. But my bad."

"Fair. And don't worry about it." Georgie takes a moment, thinking her words through this time. They seem okay to say, "But I meant, like, really, tell me about–If you're comfortable of course– because I don't know all the...the stuff."

Sasha turns her eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully, and Georgie lets her think in silence, taking the time to admire Sasha's neck. Georgie herself prefers silver over gold, but the delicate chain that drapes over Sasha makes the woman's skin look like sunlight against it. Fuck, Georgie is bi-as-hell and winning.

Sasha looks back, a small smile on her face, "I'm not evil, you know?"

Georgie doesn't, not entirely, but she nods her encouragement.

"Nothing about being me is evil, or inhuman, or foreign. I just am." She sighs, "I just want to be."

They fall into a comfortable silence.

A woman, Annabelle, Georgie guesses, rolls her chair out from a door that must be an elevator. She moves through the space with ease and grace, saying something to two men in the corner that makes one laugh and the other bury his face in his hands. 

“You’re driving my patrons away, ‘Belle!” The bartender calls.

She scoops a red solo cup off the ground and tosses it at him with perfect aim, but the bartender ducks. He flips her off, she sticks her tongue out at him. Then, Anabelle turns to the two of them and smiles.

They stumble onto the late night London pavement. Anabelle stands, and moves to put her chair in the car, leaning heavily on the sedan, but Sasha waves her off and pops the trunk herself. Annabelle smiles and climbs into the driver seat. Georgie watches all of this and suppresses a smile. The one thing that can please a lady more than chivalry.

The drive isn’t a long one. Georgie watches the city go by out her window as soft jazz plays on Anabelle’s radio, the heater on high, not uncomfortably so, but the warmth wraps around Georgie and then moves through her. She blinks sleepilly.

They pull up at her flat, and Georgie climbs out.

" Wait a minute!" Sasha says, "Wait, wait!" 

She spends a while fiddling with the door, before Anabelle laughs and unlocks it. Sasha nearly falls over herself to get out the car.

"Let me walk you to your door.'

"I'll be fine it's just-"

"Not saying you won't, but let me? You can say no."

Georgie smiles, and nods. It's a short stroll.

"I had a really good time tonight," Sasha says.

"Mm. Me too."

They stop in front of her door. It was a really short stroll.

Sasha thrusts her hands in her pockets and rolls back and forth from her heels to the balls of her feet. "And I know it wasn't a date this time, but maybe next time? Take me to lunch instead of Jon and see who gets jealous of who?"

Georgie laughs. She places a hand on Sasha's arm and leans gently forward. Resting her lips on Sasha's cheek. She pulls away slowly. "I'd really love that."

A pause.

"And" Georgie continues, "You know you can always talk to me. Even if I can't relate, I'll listen. I won't judge, either. I know we're all figuring it out."

Sasha opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. She looks nervously off to one side, "Can I, ah. Can I hug you?"

"Of course."

Sasha's arms come around Georgie, and her chin rests in the cushion of Georgie's hair. Sasha is still, gloriously warm.

Georgie sighs into her chest.

After a few seconds, Annabelle lightly beeps the horn.

"Ah, my bad." Sasha say, pulling away, "It's late, I–"

"Do you like Hungarian?"

Sasha tilts her head, "I mean, I'll try anything once?"

"Nice!" Georgie says, trying not to get too excited she can finally drag someone along with her, "Nice. Well-"

"Goodnight Georgie."

"Goodnight Sasha. And thank you for...You letting me know you."

Sasha smiles, and turns away.

Melanie is sitting cross-legged on the couch when Georgie steps inside her flat, blue hair sticking up in all directions and spoon sticking up from a pint of ice cream. She jingles the keys Georgie gave her in silent explanation. 

"So," Melanie asks, "How'd it go?"

Georgie thinks. She thinks all the way back to that moment, months ago, when she and Sasha first locked eyes with a nod that says 'We are both here'.

'We are both existing, We are both thriving the best that we can, We can both be.'

And it's so much more now.

"It was good." Georgie says. "It was really good."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this fic, thanks for the people in Charmlie's discord for encouraging it and the folks in the TMABB for reading over it for me to see if it was even worth posting. Comments are moderated for obvious reasons but still very much appreciated! 
> 
> Onto what I mentioned earlier. I have several headcannons outlined for characters in TMA (hcs are VERY negotiable). Because cannon is male-centered (and tbh Jon and Martin could use a break, let them sleep) I want to write a series of fic centering on the healing, redemption, and growth of many ladies in tma.
> 
> If you are a writer or beta who is the following and would like to share your experience through fic, message me or sent me an ask at [@drumkonwords](https://drumkonwords.tumblr.com/):
> 
> \- asain-american or asain-british folk  
> \- anyone who has lost their sight or was born blind  
> \- anyone who has had a negative religious/ cult related expirience  
> \- trans women  
> \- anyone from latine countries  
> \- ND folk  
> \- anyone with a headcannon who feels comfortable talking about this stuff
> 
> Note: I only want to go on with this project if people from related groups are helping, writing, and advising, i will not speak for anyone and I 100% understand that this stuff is really personal. If talking about it is triggering for you, I'd ask that you don't reply. Maybe this will be a thing, maybe it won't, it all depends.


End file.
